Stone Dreams
by Seia
Summary: A New Arrival-- Bump In The Night? Two Mysterious Men In Sight!


A New Arrival

**

A loud crack pierced the stillness of the inn's nighttime air, jolting the patrons from peaceful slumber into a stark realization of the cold.  A thump.. and moments later, footsteps padded down the hall at a still pace.  It took some time before they again padded down the hall, toward the seven rooms.

"Everything is quite alright, I assure you," the wispy figure heard herself whisper at the first door.  "Lightning has felled a tree near this one, but we still stand.  The storm seems to be passing, you can rest without worry."  She repeated the message with a counterfeit tranquility to the other six doors, waiting for each of the answers in turn.  Nodding to herself as the last patron coughed a thank you, the elf returned herself to her own room and bedding, sinking down into the straw.  

That lightning strike that hit so near home would bring much commotion to the Inn of the Last Home tomorrow, and she couldn't say that the money wouldn't be appreciated.

** 

The young knight clenched his eyes tightly as the descent began, his knees pressed tightly into blue scales, his hands clutching the metal pommel.  Astride a dragon, Kahlan noted, there were but two sure things that kept one from scaring oneself shitless—experience, or a complete and total lack of mind.  The gray-robed figure chuckled slightly to himself as he questioned which, truly, was the reason he was able to dismount without fear, stroking the neck of his traveling companion, the large blue dragon.

  
            "Think you could have picked a more conspicuous place for us to land, Furoth?" questioned the rider as he straightened his robes about him.  Not expecting an answer from the annoyed beast, he let out a loud belch as he took a look around him.  "At least there's the cover of trees."

  
            The blue shook his head, looking both ways before he spoke in tones hushed for a dragon.  "It's not like it matters—I fully intend on dropping this shape anyhow.  It's a pain to find a willing female dragon, and I'm itching to get a little action, if you catch my drift."  Thrilled with his speech, the oversized wyrm let a puff of smoke drift from his nostrils before unfurling his wings.  A blue bolt took him in, and within minutes, had altered his appearance to that of a human.  Kahlan snorted audibly—Furoth smirked.

"From what's been circulating in the taverns, you could use the girth of your dragon form, Mr. Smooth."  The slightest hint of jealousy tinged Kahlan words, but it was countered by a good-natured pat on the back.  The two were strikingly similar in appearance when Furoth would take to the form of a human.  The main difference was, perhaps, in his eyes—almost black.  There was, of course, Furoth's hair, a shocking blue, but it was often covered with a hood or cowl.  Unfortunately, the eyes had it, which left the handsome Kahlan with less women than he probably deserved.  "Or wanted," he reminded himself caustically.  Furoth glanced behind himself, a glazed look on his face as Kahlan shrugged.  Not as though he often listened anyway, right?  Hefting the saddlebag to his shoulder, he trudged after the deft dragon.  
  


Fur cleared his throat.  "Solace, right?  Rumored to have the best whores in Abanasia?" He visibly adjusted himself through the gray robes.

"Getcher mind off your privates for a moment, you horny lizard," joked the warrior, adjusting his sword at his belt.  Furoth sniffed, paying him little mind as he walked on.  "After all, aren't you hungry for something other than woman?  Like food?  We've been in flight for hours—you've got to be famished!"  

Though unimpressed, he was reminded of how sore his wings truly were, and he stretched his arms to make up for it.  "You eat your favorite thing, I'll eat mine, thanks.  Regardless, lead on!  You know the slums of every city we come to, and I think the slums are as pricey a residence as we can afford for the night, don't you?"  

With a resigned sigh, Kahlan took up the front.  Furoth, non-chalant as ever, took up the rear, whistling a popular sailing tune.


End file.
